


Naming

by omphale23



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge fic, Community: stop_drop_porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray wasn't sure how he got himself into these things.</p><p>One minute he was watching Fraser sharpen his knife, sliding it across that greasy stone he'd started keeping in the kitchen two months ago. The next, he was considering some seriously weird shit while Fraser gave him one of those looks that asked for something without really asking for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naming

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://jamethiel-bane.livejournal.com/profile)[**jamethiel_bane**](http://jamethiel-bane.livejournal.com/) for ideas and handholding. Originally posted to **stop_drop_porn**.

Ray wasn't sure how he got himself into these things.

One minute he was watching Fraser sharpen his knife, sliding it across that greasy stone he'd started keeping in the kitchen two months ago. The next, he was considering some seriously weird shit while Fraser gave him one of those looks that asked for something without really asking for it. He hated those looks.

Ray started shaking his head. "No way, Fraser. This is a bad idea."

"I assure you, Ray, it's entirely safe." Fraser stood up and walked around the table. Ray found himself backing away as if Fraser's funny sex ideas were catching.

"There is no way this is safe. On what planet is this safe? You're completely out of your mind."

Fraser sighed. "Perhaps safe is the wrong term. It's certainly no more dangerous than any number of the things we've done together. Jumping through windows, car chases, assisting Turnbull in practicing his knife-throwing skills—"

"I almost lost an ear that day." Ray's throat was dry, and he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. When he turned back around, Fraser was on his side of the table again, head cocked as he watched Ray swallow a few gulps. "You're not helping your case."

Fraser at least had the good grace to blush. He set his jaw, though, and Ray could feel himself losing another argument. "I trust you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't trust me. Maybe you shouldn't, either." Fraser didn't answer, just turned the knife over in his hands and stared Ray down. "Fine. But if I freak out, we stop."

"I don't want to force you into something you're unhappy about."

Ray rolled his eyes. "You never do. But you promise me something first." Fraser nodded. "Promise me you want this."

Fraser balanced the blade on his palm, offering the handle to Ray. "I want this."

***

So that was how Ray ended up kneeling over Fraser's back, trying to get his hand to stop shaking. He hadn't even done anything yet, and already he was wiping his palms on the sheets, rubbing the back of his arm across his eyes. Fraser twitched each time a drop of sweat hit his back.

Ray was just glad he'd thought to turn on the window fan before he'd stripped and reached across the bed for Fraser's knife. He took a deep breath. "You ready for this?"

"Of course." Fraser's voice held a hint of amusement, like he was being patient and waiting for Ray to figure out something simple, something easy and important. Something Fraser wasn't willing to just come out and tell him.

"Ray?" Fraser shifted beneath him, and Ray snapped his head up, nearly fumbling the knife. "Are you all right?"

"Dammit, Fraser. Do not do that." Ray shook himself and set the tip of the blade against Fraser's shoulder blade.

At least the irritation had steadied his hand. Slowly, watching Fraser carefully for any sort of movement, he dragged the blade inward along the curve of the bone.

Fraser shuddered, and Ray lifted the knife to wait for him to change his mind. After a few seconds he looked back to the cut, watching the first drops well up.

The second cut was easier and Fraser's choked moan sounded like some sort of encouragement. The bright red drops surfaced quickly, beading on Fraser's skin and sliding down his ribs to soak into the towel they had laid over the sheets.

The third was well on the way from weird to hot when Fraser squirmed a little and the edge skipped across his spine. Ray hesitated, but shifted his grip and started again, running the knife along a parallel track, creating a design. Building something new out of the delicate tracings of the blade.

Fraser shuddered as a drop of sweat landed in one of the cuts.

It was probably a lot like getting a tattoo, the combination of pain and adrenaline and the sheer rush of trusting someone to change you. Only Ray didn't have a license, or training, or anything that would make this a good idea. All he had was Fraser.

Who was tense and vibrating beneath him, grinding down into the bed and shivering every time Ray slid the blade across another patch of skin. Ray leaned back, eying the patterns and adding another curve. Satisfied, he dropped the knife next to the bed. Fraser jumped as the handle clattered on the floor.

Ray ran his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure what to do next, but he didn't resist the sudden urge to trail his fingers through the marks, pattern Fraser's skin with whorls and designs that would wash away, mark him with bold red swirls and his own name.


End file.
